From a Borderline Misdiagnosis to Finding Peace in Islam
When Love Was Just a Disguise
I was moving on from an abusive partner N and had just restarted my life. I was doing well, focused, and building something for myself. I stacked savings from previous bartending and dog-sitting jobs, and was working towards funding and shooting my first short film. I had found a new job that was easy and stress-free enough for me to focus on my creative pursuits which is such a rare find. Then I met A and his presence slowly began to change that. I never thought I’d fall for someone I had no business getting close to in the first place. Someone emotionally unavailable, who should have never pursued me at all. But love bombing has a way of making you feel like you’re everything someone has ever needed like you’re their missing piece. And for a while, I believed it.
A was in a position of authority over me, and there was already an imbalance from the start. When someone in a position of power pursues you, it’s exploitative. In hindsight, it felt calculated and deeply manipulative. At the time, I couldn’t tell. He hovered around me, made himself present at every opportunity, and it felt like I couldn’t escape his attention even when I wanted to.
Initially, I resisted. I had my own plans that I didn’t want to risk and I also didn’t want the chaos I knew could come from being involved with someone like him. A had his own baggage… things he didn’t want to face, responsibilities he was running away from. And instead of dealing with it, he wanted me to be his sweet escape. Love bombing has a way of disarming you, and I ignored my instincts and gave in, choosing heart over head. The connection felt electric, like we’d known each other forever, and before long, I wanted a life with him in it. It felt right, but only for a while.
Healing Beyond the Label
Eventually, I knew I had to end things because I had morals and knew this kind of relationship wasn’t healthy for me. I was so blindsided and he presented himself as a safe haven, everything I thought I would ever need, but walking away was brutal. Even though I chose to hit the eject button, the withdrawal felt like ripping away the one thing I thought was holding me together. The breakup left me gutted, but it also held up a mirror. I didn’t know how to process the aftermath of letting go of someone who had pulled me in so deeply, so fast. The emotional crash landed me back in therapy, where I was misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder… a label that shaped how I saw myself for years.
I made that diagnosis my identity. I talked about it openly online, and started advocating and teaching people about it. At first, it felt like relief… finally, a name for my pain, a way to make sense of my past. But the longer I lived with that label, the less it fit. The cracks were small at first, then impossible to ignore. I tend to move on quickly after breakups, enjoy my time alone, and don’t struggle with abandonment issues. I didn’t feel the chronic emptiness, nor was I reckless or self-destructive, and I’d never attempted to take my own life or even considered it. My anger wasn’t random; it was always tied to very real betrayals or heartbreak. And my so-called “black and white” thinking only surfaced in those moments, not as a constant pattern. Yet the mental health professional I trusted to see me clearly missed all of that.
The feelings I shared with the therapist, were completely normal, considering everything I’ve been through, especially in my love life. I know now that what I was experiencing wasn’t a personality disorder per se, but the deep pain of being abused and manipulated, and giving my heart away to those who were careless and reckless with it. And when I started to heal deeply after reverting to Islam, those feelings of anger and bitterness faded as my environment stabilized. Long before I got married to my now husband, I realized I wasn’t inherently unstable, I had simply been reacting to Psychological and emotional trauma.
Finding Ease in Allah’s Plan
Right after my 30th birthday, I turned to Allah and my life changed completely. Becoming Muslim gave me a framework of meaning, hope, and trust in Allah’s plan, which transformed how I processed pain and sorrow. My nervous system found moments of peace during Salah, and I kept in mind the words of Allah: “Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest” (Qur’an 13:28). I began to understand that no hardship is without purpose: “Indeed, with hardship comes ease” (Qur’an 94:6).
Fast forward to today, I’m married to the most brave, masculine and god fearing man I have ever met and have a beautiful daughter and three bonus step children whom I love deeply. As a bonus, my husband is handsome and charming, but looks eventually fade… what matter to me the most is his ability to lead me in the right direction of pleasing God. He cares about my afterlife, and that’s the best kind of love only a real (masculine) man can give to his wife. A lot of men claim to be god fearing, but my husband actually walks the talk. That’s another reason I was drawn to Islam because for Muslim men, faith isn’t just a label, it’s a way of life they actually live by… They’re nothing like the pretenders (modern christian men) I’ve known before.
Of course, that doesn’t mean my life or my love life suddenly became perfect just because I became Muslim. But Islam reshaped the way I approach challenges, making both stress and life itself easier to navigate. As for my past trauma, which still crosses my mind at times, I’ve learned to meet it differently. Whenever I felt overwhelmed by traumatic or heartbreaking memories, I remember this verse “Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.” (Qur’an 2:286). A reminder that I was made strong enough to handle the trials written for me.
Another ayah that deeply anchored me was: “If Allah knows any good in your hearts, He will give you something better than what was taken from you…” (Qur’an 8:70) It’s a reminder that what feels like an ending is often the beginning of something far greater. People tend to often overlook the spiritual aspect of mental health. True well-being is not just physical and not all spirituality promotes well-being, though. True spirituality grounds the mind, eases emotional burdens, and fosters healthier choices that naturally support the body’s healing. I found that Islam aligned perfectly with that.
More Than a Misdiagnosis
Feeling things deeply doesn’t automatically mean you have borderline personality disorder (BPD). Intensity of emotion can come from many different places, and for some people, it’s simply part of their temperament. A few possibilities:
Highly sensitive temperament: Some people are naturally more emotionally attuned, noticing subtleties in tone, energy, or environment that others miss. Psychologists sometimes call this being a “highly sensitive person.”
Past experiences and trauma: If you’ve been through instability, hurt, or neglect, your nervous system may have learned to stay alert and reactive. That doesn’t mean you have a personality disorder—it means your body and mind are trained to feel strongly in order to stay safe.
Constitution and biology: Just like some people sweat more or need more sleep, some nervous systems are built to feel things more vividly. Hormones, brain chemistry, and even diet can amplify emotional perception.
Depth of processing: People who think deeply often feel deeply. You may ruminate, reflect, or connect dots in ways that naturally make emotions more powerful and layered.
BPD involves a very specific pattern of emotional instability, identity disturbance, fear of abandonment, and impulsivity that affects nearly every part of life. Simply having intense emotions doesn’t mean you meet that definition.
When a mental health professional mislabels my pain as a fixed disorder, it makes healing feel even further away… It’s like being told that the wound isn’t something you can heal from, only something you can manage forever. That belief can keep you stuck in an identity and its even worse if that label was never truly yours. The truth is, what I was experiencing wasn’t a lifelong defect, but a reaction to very real harm. We may not always see someone’s true colors right away, and sometimes the cost of finding out is a lot of heartbreak and trauma. But Allah, in His perfect wisdom, can turn even those losses into stepping stones toward something better, whether that “better” is protection from greater harm, a deeper connection with Him, or blessings we couldn’t yet imagine.
Have you ever been misdiagnosed with a personality disorder or been given a diagnosis that didn’t feel like you? How did it affect you? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments below.
